


The Seer

by Bolt_DMC



Category: Bolt (2008)
Genre: Clairvoyance, Movie Reference, Music, Original Character(s), Peril
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-27 03:21:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20400829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bolt_DMC/pseuds/Bolt_DMC
Summary: Occurs during the time period covered by the movie. Mittens has been running a protection racket for some time now, bullying pigeons out of their food. Will the cat get her just desserts? Or will she become someone's dessert instead? This story suggests a scenario. Primary cultural references include the film "The Lion King," television law shows, and songs by Simon and Garfunkel, John Lennon, and The Who.





	The Seer

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: October 2008.
> 
> For Trey.

1.

Mittens felt like exploring, but not solely out of wanderlust. The part of Manhattan where the tuxedo cat lived, located near Madison Square Park, was uncharacteristically devoid of humans and their accompanying food scraps because of the holiday weekend. And the pigeons who normally paid edible protection tribute to her weren't due to drop off their next installment of grub until tomorrow.

The cat had recently heard that the back alleys of Chinatown, a neighborhood located a number of blocks to the south, were an ideal place for hungry street critters to scrounge up an easy meal. Even declawed felines like her supposedly could fatten their scrawny physiques with minimal effort. Mittens intended to find out if it was true.

The day was pleasantly warm for this time of year, and the cat felt no need to hurry. She traced an erratic path more or less southwards, enjoying the out-of-the-way architectural gems she encountered. These were mainly mid-rise office and apartment buildings with ground-floor level commercial storefronts. Most dated back to the late 19th and early 20th century, covered with stone ornament and detailed façade work. While perhaps not as iconic as the Flatiron Building close by the alley she called home, they were plenty attractive in their own right, attesting to the overall artistic richness of Manhattan's edifices. Many in fact would have been standouts if relocated to other communities.

The shops were mostly closed, though one declared itself ready for business on the otherwise eerily quiet streets -- a retro trinkets store selling vintage clothing, vinyl records, lava lamps, and similar items. An outdoor speaker played songs dating back to the 60s and 70s. Mittens hadn't had much opportunity to enjoy music since she had been abandoned on the street, and stopped to lick a paw and listen. The brace of tunes included "I Can See for Miles" by The Who; three John Lennon solo selections, "Instant Karma," "Crippled Inside," and "How Do You Sleep?"; and "The Boxer" and "The Only Living Boy in New York" by Simon and Garfunkel.

The cat found she particularly liked the last of these. One of the loveliest and most heartfelt releases by this folk-pop duo, its impressionist lyrics paint the portrait of a Manhattanite who misses his close friend -- or is he a lover? -- terribly much. This friend, an actor, is about to board a plane and the singer tries to remain in good spirits. But the speaker ultimately admits he feels lost and alone without his friend, and urges him to let his naturally honest nature shine through when he arrives. Something about the song resonated powerfully with Mittens, though she wasn’t sure why.

Upon reaching 14th Street, the cat found something on her jaunt that would amply nourish her body as well as her artistic soul. Someone had recently tossed a ripped-open bagful of junk food near an alley dumpster, containing a fully intact Double Gloppy Burger with extra chili, a large sack of Cheezy Fries, and a deep-fried cherry pie, all freshly cooked and seemingly untouched.

Mittens couldn't believe her luck. The cat’s stomach had been growling more frequently, attesting to the unusually meager offerings available lately. But here -- here was enough to satisfy her for the whole day. Maybe a couple days if she could hide what wasn't eaten right now. She knew the latter possibility was unlikely -- stuff like this has a telltale odor, making it easy for competing street dwellers to find.

"This is exactly what I was looking for," she thought. "Oh well, I'll check out Chinatown another day."

2.

The cat quickly began gobbling down fries, but soon realized she had company. It was the kind of company Mittens dreaded most, too. A posse of five rats had begun creeping up to her, surrounding her with looks of self-assured menace. Worse yet, they were huge, the biggest one better than half her size. She hadn’t seen a rodent this large before in New York, not even a squirrel.

"Willya look at that, Jackie?" said the chubby rat to her left. "All them eats, and she don't look like she’s in the mood to share."

The dark-hued rat smirked. "Yeah, I noticed that, Denny. Just like a cat, eh? No manners. None whatsoever. Outrageous."

Mittens swallowed nervously. "Oh -- heh. You guys may not know it, but I'm an extremely generous soul. Big, big donor to charitable causes. In fact, a quarter of my paycheck goes to philanthropy every week. Anyway, there's gotta be -- gotta be more than enough here for all six of us. And don't worry, I won't eat more than my fair share."

The biggest rat frowned irritably. "I dunno, Jackie. She don’t look like the unselfish type to me. Maybe we oughta give this kittycat a crash course in the law of the street. Whatcha think?"

"Yeah," drawled Jackie ominously. "I’m wit’ you, Perry. I think our little jury of five’ll come to a clear and speedy verdict. One count of lying: guilty. One count of greediness: guilty. One count of obstruction of burger: guilty."

"Can I pass sentence? Can I? Can I? Can I?" asked the smallest rat excitedly. He was dark blond in color and losing his hair in spots. "I know the penal code of the streets like the back of my paw."

"Hang on a sec, Arnie," said Perry. "We ain’t heard from Ben yet. We decide these things unanimous, remember?"

Being a mute, Ben simply nodded his assent. He had hoped there would be a hot dog in the bag instead of a burger, but he was too hungry to be picky.

"Okay, have at it," growled the biggest rodent. "Let's get this over wit’."

"Hee-hee-hee-hee!" giggled Arnie. "The penalty for crimes of this type is no food for the defendant. And said defendant also gets to be our dessert. Cherry pie just screams for a side order of cat sushi, I'd say."

Mittens gulped. "So, no trial by a jury of my peers? No writ of habeas corpus or anything?"

"Well," replied Jackie with a snicker. "You got a right to be a corpse, if that's what you’re askin’. But don't get too worked up, okay? Tensing up takes all the flavor and tenderness outta cat meat."

"Not being a cannibal, I wouldn't know," said Mittens nervously.

"Shall we?" snarled Denny. "I'm feelin’ famished over here."

"Boy, this'd be the perfect time for Mufasa from ‘The Lion King’ to show up and play the great liberator," thought the cat as she cowered and backed into the dumpster behind her. She knew jumping on top of the trash bin wouldn't provide a safe haven, as the rats could easily crawl up to follow her.

3.

To the surprise of Mittens and her kangaroo court of rodents, rescue suddenly barreled its way into the alley courtesy of a large, howling, curly-haired mutt.

"Aaaah! Let's get outta here!" yelled Perry. "I know this pooch real good, and his bite is definitely worse than his bark!" The quintet of rats scurried frantically down the alley and jumped into an open manhole cover.

The dog turned to the astonished feline with a grin. "Don't worry. Those sleazeballs won’t bother you as long as I'm here."

Mittens was out of breath, but clearly relieved. "Hey, thanks! You came just in time, or I was gonna end up as kitty tartare. So to whom do I owe my life?"

"Name's Kelvin. And think nothing of it," said the labradoodle with clearly evident satisfaction. "It's always a pleasure to put a good scare into that nasty pack of vermin."

"Believe me," replied the cat. "The pleasure of meeting you is all mine. I’m Mittens."

The smile on Kelvin’s muzzle suddenly melted into a glowering glare. "Mittens?" he said incredulously. "You’re Mittens?"

"Uh-oh," thought the cat nervously. "Looks like he's a lunatic like most everyone else I’ve met on the street." She made a frantic dash to the top of the dumpster, which luckily was tall enough for her to remain well out of the pooch’s reach. "Hey, what gives?" shouted Mittens. "One minute, you're friendlier than an insurance salesman, and the next, you're ready to toss me into the crocodile pit at the zoo!"

The labradoodle scowled. "Do the names Joey, Vinnie, and Bobby ring a bell with you, by any chance?"

"Yeah," said the cat in as offhanded a manner as possible. "I know them well. Three pigeons I've got a little business arrangement with."

"I'm well aware of the nature of your dealings with them," Kelvin barked. "You've been running a protection racket, shaking them down for food. Those birds are pals of mine, you sleazy hustler, and I don't like seeing my friends get taken advantage of. They often can't scrape together enough food to meet your quota, so I wind up having to help them out quite a bit. Some weeks, I've got to rustle up every crumb they drop in your greedy little lap. I'm getting darned tired of it, too!"

Mittens of course knew the dog was right. Her extortion scheme had started because she was unable to feed herself adequately. Left to her own devices, she would surely have starved to death long ago. But given her circumstances, she had no intention of abandoning this reliable food pipeline now, even to appease Kelvin. Her hope was that a well-turned lie might at least give her a chance to escape.

"Yeah… yeah… you’re right," she said with more than slightly exaggerated regret. "I’m a con artist and a bully. And it's about time I started walking the straight and narrow. I'll give up my racket starting tomorrow."

Kelvin grimaced skeptically. "C’mon -- you really think I'm that gullible? I know you'll keep that little scheme of yours up no matter what you say. I don't believe a single word you're telling me."

"He’s good, I'll give him that," thought Mittens. She shook her head. "So what’re you, a psychic or something?" she finally asked.

A wry grin crossed the dog’s face. "Matter of fact, I am. Not coincidentally, my full name is Kelvin Cayce Nostradamus the Labradoodle. And I live up to my middle names, cat. But you don't have to worry -- I’m not gonna harm you unless you're dumb enough to come back into my territory again. Won't need to, anyway. The agent acting as your bolt of divine retribution will be stopping by to see you any day now. I can feel it in my bones."

"Y’know, dog," said Mittens. "I have a good reason for doing what I've been doing. I’m declawed and can’t hunt."

"Horse biscuits! There are lots of ways to keep yourself properly nourished on the square if you try," countered the pooch. "Let’s say you and I had met under different circumstances. We coulda been pals, helping each other out, keeping an eye on each other and sharing food. Unfortunately, you decided to take an unethical detour on the way to a half-full stomach. But like I said, it's not gonna be me who makes you pay. Call it a hunch, but I got a feeling your comeuppance is on its way as we speak."

"You seem pretty sure of yourself there, curly-top," sneered the cat. "What makes you the second coming of The Great Karnak?"

"It’s a gift," said Kelvin. "I get these nagging sensations in my gut and my bones, and I see apparitions from the future. Among other things, I predicted Pluto would be demoted to a dwarf planet, Kosovo would declare its independence from Serbia, and Carrie Underwood would win ‘American Idol.’ Haven't missed with a single prophesy yet. And now, furball, I suggest you scoot your mangy carcass back to wherever it was you came from. You’re not welcome around here. Don’t worry, though. Like I said, I’ll let you get away -- this time, at least. And lay off my pigeon pals, got it?"

"Okay -- will do," Mittens fibbed as she leaped from the dumpster top and scampered north as fast as she could, taking side streets in an attempt to make following her more of a challenge. She didn’t stop running until she got back to Madison Square Park.

"Sheesh," thought the cat once she reached home. "Even when it comes to street eccentrics, he’s gotta be the nuttiest fruitcake I’ve ever met. Bolt of divine retribution? Hah! It is to laugh, and laugh heartily. Never gonna happen, not in a million years."


End file.
